Fate Project

Phase 5 | Stirring

RHINE

I make my way to Lind's backyard and almost immediately, Nox gives a bark of recognition and hurries to the pet door. And in just little moment, Cas opens the door, looking as tardy as ever, with his long unkempt blonde hair that he had tied back in a ponytail and worn out clothes you will think it had been worn by thousands of generations of Ross family. But then again, Cas is the only Ross here, just like how there is only Artilleans or Lincoln here in the Bridge.

Cas looks at us with his droopy brown eyes like how you will look at a room in need of cleaning. But he seems to shift in to his true self when he sees me. It's really amazing how he, a fellow slacker just as myself, can wholly transform when in front of his patients. He doesn't bother to ask questions, instead he hastes me and the girl inside the cabin, orders me to lay the girl in the sofa as he brings a series of medical remedies, supplies, equipments and the likes. I can only watch as he begins to examine the girl.

"Where is Lind?" I ask, scanning the cabin already, looking for any hint that Lind is here. I have grown accustomed to this cabin—the smell of tinctures and medicines, the messy scattered books on the shelves, the creaking loose floorboards and Nox's bark before someone can even set foot on Lind's backyard. The reason is not because Cas and I always played here when we were young but because of my perpetual visit here due to my scar in my chest. Even now, Lind will kill me if I ditch my check ups every Monday. She's been on my scar ever since I was sent here because like I am, she also finds my scar weird. And weird is her specialty when it comes to healing.

"Out to buy some supplies," says Cas without taking his attention to the girl. Before Cas can confirm my fears, I already knew Lind's not here. Because if she was, Cas wouldn't be the one who opened that door earlier. "We're running out of medicines and—watch it!"

"Sorry," I apologize for nearly spilling the boiling water in the table. My nerves are shot, uncontrollable, and I'm so worried, already imagining the worst case scenario. I just want to get this over with, fast and quick. I mean, how come I didn't saw this coming?

I should've known better.

Cas, as an apprentice of Lind, cannot help. I'm not belittling him or anything. I have never underestimated Cas when it comes to caring and curing the sick or dying person, he's been doing this ever since we were children. And he has a certain talent for it but he might as well admit now that he can't help this girl just by himself.

And if he can't help her, and I can't, she's going to take us down with her.

I know I need to retain my composure, to collect my wits because to lose it now can mean to completely lose our lives—

"Don't overthink," says Cas, snapping me out of my reverie. "Yes, her wounds are grave and without Lind, we cannot possibly attend to such damage since I haven't learned how to stitch up a wound yet. We'll do the first aid while we wait for Lind to arrive. I've already sent Nox to her."

"Alright," I sigh, "what can I do to help?"

"Do what I ask for, do not do anything unnecessary and keep away from the water," says Cas, "it'll be troublesome if you boil yourself alive."

I allow myself to smile. Cas never fails to bring relief to anyone. Sick or not.

"Yes, doctor," I grin at him.

According to Cas, the gash in her right leg is not as severe as the stab in her left abdomen. It doesn't reach to the bone so he cleans it and wraps clean sterile bandages on it. Then he moves on to examine the stab in the girl's stomach. He tries to rip off the girl's black tunic but no matter how many times he tries, the scissor and the scalpel can't even do a damage to the fabric, as if the clothing itself is bound by some damage repellant magic or sewn by indestructible threads. But I know better, things made in Capitol carry high technology with them. And her clothes is but another item representing the might and strength of the Capitol.

That's why the symbol on her choker seems familiar. The strings weaving to form a sphere is the emblem of the Allcor Alliance.

Just another reminder that screams the Capitol's reign.

In the end, Cas just makes her lift her tunic and he begin examining the stab. But when he takes a closer look to the stab, I see him frown. I can only wonder in horror what kind of weapon can pierce through the girl's damage-proof tunic—when a couple of scissors and scalpel cannot even scratch the damn fabric—and drill a hole to her stomach.

"The blade pierced through her flesh so deep, it surely hit one of her organs," explains Cas. "It basically pierce a hole in her left abdomen. First aid won't cut it, and she lost an amount of blood already. At this rate, her life will be in danger."

"Well, Lind will be here soon so there's nothing to worry about," I say, putting up a front. Trying to convince him, to convince the girl but failing to convince myself, instead.

"Right," says Cas as he collects the used cloth, dabbed cottons, the bloodstained water, and some residuals, "for now, we'll give her some anesthesia and pain killers. I'll go and take it, watch her."

"Okay," I answer weakly, crouching just before the sofa.

"Just shout if anything happens," says Cas as he left.

As Cas makes his way upstairs, probably at the storage in the second floor or at Lind's room in the third floor, that's when the girl finally lowers her guard and takes notice of the place. Honestly, it feels like she doesn't recognized how grave the situation is. She looks bored as hell. She may be a regular but we are way past acting strong and invincible now. She can die, regular or not.

It's then that the girl finally decides to speak, snapping me harshly away from my thoughts.

"Thinking I'll keel over and just die here?" she says as if reading my mind.

"What?" I ask her, dumbstruck. "Are you for real?"

"Why?" she says, almost sarcastically, "That's what your friend said, right?"

"Yes," I mutter under my breath, "so do me a favor and die faster?"

"Well, sorry to disappoint but I won't die just because of something as trivial as this."

Trivial.

I glance at her, suddenly caught off-guarded. Her words are like a slap to my face. This is the reality. Regulars are different, and will always be. They don't fear wounds, they don't fear death. I don't think they are even capable of fear.

"Pity, I was looking forward to see your death."

"Have you forgotten? I'm a regular," she states, looking at me, "I can heal myself."

"Why don't you just heal yourself then?" I say, taunting. "You let me brought you here when you can heal yourself back then. Or maybe—you can't. Come on, you can't, right?"

She glares at me again. The same deadly glare but I stand it, I must, at the very least, try to resist the urge to cringe as those glassy eyes dart through me.

"Yes, I can't," she says through gritted teeth.

So much for being fearless, I thought.

I always assumed regulars are omnipotent, a force of nature, a power no one can reach. But then, I remember when I once saw some regulars, a troop of corkeepers, or as what we all call them, corps—the Capitol's very own law enforcers, the entire military unit—and they're not even alive—probably when the rebels have a shoot-out with them—, and I realize that even they're so blessed and elites, they can also be hurt. They can also die.

Both of us might feel pain, might suffer death, but it doesn't mean we have to fear it.

I know they don't.

But we do.

Because they have strength while us have nothing but defects.

"I want to ask why but you're not going to give me answers that easily, are you?" I say, shrugging. "Oh well, not that I care—"

"It's because I've drained my cor," she answers, cutting me off. "I've wasted it in activating Limit IV and using the sword because some stupid people locked me up on a storage. Haven't you realized how the gun vanishes not some time ago?"

I look at her, baffled. I cannot process all the information and I am also shocked that she did give me some answers. I guess dying does her that. And what does she mean by cor? Isn't that the thing inside our bodies that gives us the energy to be alive? So she has drained her life energy, is that it? If it is, this makes matters worse, if we cannot heal her, even with Lind's help, and neither can she heal herself, we're practically doomed.

"We're not stupid," I say, distracted. "That was the smart thing to do when you heard a click of a gun, especially because of the rebels, so do not blame us. But—the cor, er—whatever that is," I'm still having reservations if I'll believe her words or not, "How can you recover it? Say we cannot do anything to heal you, so that's your—" I bite my lip, change tack and continue, "—our last resort, right?"

"Resting," she says matter-of-factly, giving my suggestion some thought. "I'll recover some cor once I rest but considering the pace I have, I'm not going to make it. Then, that leaves me to my last option."

"Last option?" I ask and she finally takes me into full view.

What now?

She stares at me, her face impossible to read, piercing my nonexistent barriers. I wish she doesn't, though. I can't stand the way she glares at me, can't stand the way her starry eyes pierces my very being. It's unnerving. She appears to be considering, trying figure out something, decide on something as she looks at me, looking but seeing nothing. I am way past her attention.

Or so I thought.

Because I know I have her full undivided attention because she lunges at me in just a second, so swift and so easy. The table is there to stop me from completely hitting the floor, and she's close to falling out of the sofa but she holds herself, her arms as a support, my body as the ground. I cannot move.

"What are you—" I cannot even form my words. She leans to me and I don't know how strong she is, or if she's really that heavy that I am pinned down, the weight of her body pressing me into place.

"This—" she whispers after reaching out for my ears. Leans over, her breath sweet and warm on my neck. I can choke on the smell of mint coming off her. Too close. "—is the last option."

And I actually gasp, she buries her lips on my neck, trails along my throat, up my chin and cheeks. And suddenly, her lips are on mine. I know as soon as she kisses me that this is no ordinary kiss. It's deep, devouring, trying to consume me, trying to plunge deeper in my very being. And I feel it, some raw force, full and potent, swelling up from my body. And she's taking, consuming it, her tongue ravaging my mouth, taking not giving, her kiss demanding, in need, and I am melting.

It taste of something unidentifiable, like how you would never know how snow or ice taste like. You just know it will be cold. And I feel the cold and the frost enveloping me, freezing me in time. My heart thrashing wildly in my chest, my eyes wide of surprise, of confusion, of something I cannot explain.

I am so beyond rationality.